Don't Have a Fit
by William Easley
Summary: This one's not in my normal GF continuity, but was written for Wendip Week 2019 as a response to Prompt 2: "Why are you wearing my clothes?"


_I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you._

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_This is not in my normal Gravity Falls continuity, but is a story written for Wendip Week 2019 from Prompt 2: "Why are you wearing my clothes?"_

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**Don't Have a Fit**

**By William Easley**

**1**

"Dipper," Wendy said in a soft voice, "I want you to take off my shirt."

Blushing a bright red, Dipper said humbly, "Yes, Wendy." His fingers fumbled at the buttons.

The garment dropped to the floor. Wendy smiled. "Nice. Now take off my jeans."

"Are—are you sure?"

"Dude, I want you to do it!"

And so he reached for the zipper.

**2**

This had all started that morning when Dipper leaped out of the bathtub and banged his head on the shower-curtain rod.

"Mabel!" Dipper yelled, wrapping a towel around himself, "I'm gonna pound you!"

She had ducked out of the bathroom, laughing like a loon. "Not if you can't catch me!"

He couldn't chase her around the Shack while he was, as they say, in the nude. He dashed into their room and grabbed a pair of undershorts, his cargo shorts, and a tee shirt.

And discovered he couldn't force himself into even the undershorts! What would fit his normal twelve-year-old frame would definitely not fit this enlarged version of himself, as tall as Grunkle Stan though not nearly as bulky.

"Dang it, Mabel!"

He yelled loud, and he heard her giggling somewhere downstairs. The Mystery Shack was closed for the day. Grunkle Stan and Soos were off somewhere, out to bag a couple of prize exhibits, so only he, Mabel, and Waddles were there—and she had snuck unto the shower, yanked the curtain aside, and zapped him with the enlarger ray—the one he'd had to rebuild from fresh materials to re-enlarge Soos after that business with Gideon and the mirror maze.

He knotted the towel as best he could and headed downstairs. He felt gawky and awkward and nearly tripped himself up because his feet had become so large. "Mabel! This isn't funny!"

"Yes it is!" she yelled from somewhere in the direction of the gift shop.

"You wouldn't like it if I did this to you!" he shouted, looking into the gift shop.

"You deserve it 'cause you wanted to shrink Waddles!"

"I only suggested it! At the end of the summer, you can't take him home with you—but if he was the size of a guinea pig—"

"That's an insult to his porkliness! You'll have to kiss him and tell him you're sorry!"

"I am not gonna kiss a pig!"

"Then you're not getting downsized, Brobro!"

"Where the heck are you?"

"I'll never tell!" He could still hear her giggling, though. "I think I'll call Grenda and Candy to come over and take a look at you, Dipdop!"

"Mabel, I swear, I'll—" He yanked open the door to the Employees Only room. Empty. He double checked to make sure she wasn't hiding under the table or in one of the lockers—Grunkle Stan had bought a bank of second-hand lockers for employees (Soos and Wendy) to store stuff in. There were only six, but Mabel might be able to hide in one. Especially if she made herself a little smaller.

None of the lockers was locked—none even had a lock. He went through them all—cartons of candy bars for the vending machine in one, cleaning supplies in another, Soos's coveralls and toolboxes in a third, soft drinks in the fourth, and in the fifth—

Wendy's spare clothes!

"I wonder—"

Of course there were no undershorts, but if the rest would fit—

Huh. He got the jeans on—they were really tight, but he got them on—and he discovered they were even a little bit short on him. Wendy liked her flannel shirts roomy, and the red-plaid one fit him well—except, again, the sleeves were a little short, ending three inches above the wrists. "I must be over six feet tall!" he muttered.

No shoes, but he found a clean pair of thick socks in Soos's locker, and with socks, one size fits—not all, but many, and they covered his feet.

Now not only clothed, but foot-padded, he walked quietly out, prowled through the rest of the ground floor, and found no sign of Mabel.

Dang it!

He hid in Soos's horrible break room—Mabel might happen by—and tried to think like her. It was a little bit like trying to outsmart an earthquake. Mabel's mental processes were like a force of nature.

Maybe . . . she'd be out back, with Waddles!

He tiptoed through the Museum, again slowly, again checking out every exhibit and nook for some sign of a concealed Mabel. He opened the door carefully, slipped down from the porch, and spied Waddles, sprawled out snoozing in the sun. No sign of Mabel.

Back inside, she didn't seem to be in Grunkle Stan's room, or the kitchen, or the parlor, or the storage room where the wax figures had been kept, or any of the closets. Where could she be hiding—

He held his breath. He had just heard the click of the gift-shop door opening.

_Gotcha!_

As stealthily as he could, Dipper tiptoed to the doorway. He heard a noise from behind the counter. He made a sudden rush, saw Mabel bending way over, and charged.

He grabbed her butt—it didn't feel right—and Wendy screamed as they both pitched forward to the floor.

"Wendy!"

She squirmed underneath him. "Dip—Dip—DIPPER? Dude, what happened to you?"

He had pushed her down and lay sprawled on top of her. He scrambled to get up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mabel did this!"

He helped her up. She stared at him, her jaw dropping.

"See, there's this crystal that can enlarge or shrink things, and she zapped me with it as I was getting out of the shower, and mmpf!"

Wendy, frowning a little, had reached up—reached up!—to put a finger against his lips. Her head tilted back, a faint smile on her lips, her eyes sort of intrigued and sleepy-looking. "Let me try something," she whispered.

And she put her arms around him. The top of her head came just to his chin. He felt himself hugging her.

"Dude," she said, "your heart's going like two hundred beats a minute. You know, Dip, you still look young, but now you're kind of—impressive!"

"I just want to find Mabel and get back to normal," Dipper said.

With a tilt of her head, she asked, "Are you sure?"

"Well, this is, you know—awkward."

"Wait, are those—why are you wearing my clothes?"

"Because everything I own's too small to fit me now! And Soos and Grunkle Stan are too big for me to wear anything of theirs—I'm really sorry. I'll launder them, I promise! But I have to find Mabel—"

"She's crouched down behind the totem pole outside. I saw her when I came in to look for my phone—I left it down here on the bottom shelf—but then you kinda tackled me."

"I thought you were Mabel. I mistook your buh—you for her. The lights are, um, out, and—"

Wendy shook her head, but at least she was still smiling. "Yeah, well—let me see if I can straighten this mess out."

Wendy went outside and in two minutes marched a penitent-looking Mabel back into the gift shop. "I'm sorry, Dipper," she mumbled. "I guess I got carried away."

"Hand it over," Wendy said. Mabel gave her the flashlight rigged out with the crystal.

"OK," Wendy said. "You go out and play with Waddles or something while Dip gets this squared away. We'll call you when he's back to normal."

"Sorry," Mabel said again, but she went out without protest.

"I'll need to, uh, my clothes are—you know—up in our room."

"So let's go."

Dipper got everything out and laid it on the bed—fresh underwear, socks, reasonably fresh cargo shorts, tee shirt, vest.

"Can you flash yourself?" Wendy asked.

Dipper looked down on her—man, she was so pretty!—and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I don't know. Probably. But Mabel and I did each other."

"OK, so what do I do?"

Dipper showed Wendy how to rotate the crystal. "Now it's in shrink mode. Just hold down the button to shine the light through it and make sure you shine it just on me. But don't shrink me down too much—that's a big headache, getting it just right. Wait, though, Grunkle Stan had us stand against the door frame and marked our heights when we first came—there, see the pencil mark? You can adjust me to that height."

He stood against the door—Wendy smiled. "Man, your head's only like an inch under the opening! You ready?"

He balled his fists and closed his eyes. "Ready."

"Here goes—wait. What happens to my clothes? The ones you're wearing?"

"Uh—they'll shrink with me."

"And if I can't get them back to just the size I like? OK, dude, I gotta tell you—this won't work."

"What do you mean?"

"Dipper," Wendy said in a soft voice, "Take off my shirt."

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The End


End file.
